


Love in every blessed tense

by Farasha



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Break Up, Closeted Character, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Polyamory, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: Alexei isn't a manipulative person by nature, but he's observant, and he has a generous heart. At some point between being Bitty's friend and being his shoulder to lean on, Alexei found himself setting the pieces up to fall his way, and waiting for something that might never come. And then there was Kent Parson, who somehow happened in the middle of it all.A story where patience and steadfast kindness leads to a happy ending (except for one Jack Zimmermann).





	Love in every blessed tense

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This story isn't going to be particularly nice to Jack, so if Zimbits is your OTP, this is probably not the story for you. This was originally written for a kinkmeme prompt of "Tater manipulates his way into a threesome with both of Jack's exes" and then it grew feelings and got away from me.
> 
> Title adapted from "I love you here and now" by Vladimir Vysotsky.

Alexei isn't a manipulative person by nature. He could be, because his mother taught him to read people while navigating the punishing life of being a public figure in Russia, with all the scrutiny that came with being one of its heroes. There are reasons he prefers to be a lesser-known NHL player in America instead of a big name back home. The American media is insufferable, but they prefer to be insufferable to people who don't pretend not to speak English when they don't want to answer a question.

He's only had one interviewer catch him out by clumsily asking the same question in Russian.

So, no, he isn't the kind of friend who flirts with his friends' boyfriends, or especially not his teammates' boyfriends. He just makes an exception for Bitty.

It's for a lot of reasons. Bitty calls him Alyosha—he has ever since Alexei spent weeks laid up on Jack's couch during and after the Final—and Alexei has missed that so much since he left Russia. Bitty is sweet, which sounds like something that could be said about a lot of people, but he's sweet in a truly genuine way. Maybe sweet isn't enough of a descriptor; he's _thoughtful_. He remembers people's favorite recipes, the names of their spouses and children, where they came from. He listens when people talk about themselves and seems genuinely happy to share in other people's joy over what they love.

He learned how to make blini for Alexei, and very politely ignored when Alexei shed a few tears into his plate. It isn't quite his babushka's blini, but it's close enough, and Alexei's memory is probably seasoned by nostalgia anyway.

Bitty is always smiling, always ready with a kind or uplifting word. When they were both stuck in Providence on Jack's couch instead of in Seattle at the games, Bitty always seemed to know when Alexei was descending into a mood over his knee and the fact that he couldn't play. When Bitty found him trying to bend his knee to his chest before the doctors said he was ready, just in an attempt to do something, Bitty's sure, gentle hands were the ones who strapped his brace back on, and his scolding about displacing a kneecap and ending his career kept Alexei from trying again.

It's months after the Cup, after he's exchanged the huge boot brace for a smaller one that's easier to move in, after he's stopped staying at Jack's apartment for weeks at a time and started coming over only for stretches of a couple days here and there, when he catches Bitty crying very silently into a dishtowel in the kitchen with Jack nowhere to be found.

"B?" he asks cautiously, because it doesn't look like Bitty wants anyone to see him.

"I'm fine," Bitty says, scrubbing the dishtowel over his face and taking a long breath. "I'm fine."

He isn't. Sometimes Alexei thinks calling someone on their bullshit is the best way to go, but this time he feels like the best course of action is to wait Bitty out.

Bitty clears his throat and hangs the dishtowel back on the oven handle. He moves around the kitchen in a way Alexei recognizes by now, rearranging things on the shelves, picking up stray measuring cups and rinsing them in the sink. He's keeping his hands busy. A gusty sigh leaves him, finally, and the silence breaks.

"I'm so tired of going on television," he says, and he _sounds_ tired. "I just want to go back to being Eric Bittle, unpopular vlogger and barely-known NCAA player. I was okay with that."

"You're talking to Jack about this? He can talk to front office, tell them give him privacy." Alexei watches Bitty's fingers twist a paper towel to shreds with interest. Jack, he knows, isn't the best at picking up on nonverbal cues.

"It was my idea," he says, sounding defiant and resigned all at once. "The kiss, I mean. I talked him into it. So, no, whatever the music is, I've got to face it."

Alexei frowns at him, reaching out to take the shredded paper towel bits out of his hands and throw them in the recycling.

"You come in here, cry by yourself when Jack is not home?" He should stop, he knows. He's a better man than to press on the fault lines of his friend's relationship. But he's seen how uncomfortable Jack is around displays of emotion. He's seen it with Bitty—he'd watched Bitty get more and more anxious as the Falconers coaxed them into doing a long video for You Can Play, and watched Jack's frustrated bafflement build the longer it went on. That had been a bad day, not in the least because Bitty looked like a mess when it was all said and done.

"Oh, Jack has enough to worry about without me putting my problems on him." Bitty puts on a smile that by now Alexei has seen on a TV screen at least a dozen times. "Someone has to keep it together, you know, so. Right now we don't have time for me to have a moment, so I'm not having one."

Alexei has heard worse coping methods, but not many.

"So Jack is busy, not have time for listening, is okay. You have friends, yes?" Alexei doesn't think it's very okay that Bitty feels like he can't be stressed, but he reminds himself he's trying to be supportive, nothing more. "Talk to your friends. I'm playing in NHL for three years, American media is bullshit, I know."

Bitty laughs, startled, and Alexei has to revise his assessment of himself as a good man. Maybe he isn't so good, if making Bitty smile can do this to his chest.

So that's how it starts. Alexei isn't trying to seduce Bitty away from Jack, but he isn't trying _not_ to. He still compliments Bitty's cooking like he always did, and if it's sometimes accompanied by a big bear hug where he holds on a little too long, well, he's an affectionate guy. He texts good luck before Bitty's games and congratulations or condolences after, and maybe uses a few more cute stickers than he would if he was only encouraging a friend. But they have a season to play, and he has Jack to protect on the ice now that he's turned into a penalty magnet.

The thing is, Jack seems to be falling deeper and deeper into his own head. He's still playing good hockey, he's not being a problem for the team, but that would almost be better than what he is doing, which is shutting down. Alexei fields a few confused, anxious calls from Bitty, asking why Jack hadn't called him after a game like always, before he can't bring himself to cover it up anymore.

"He's sleeping, B. Went to bed right after presser," he says, leaning against the wall in the hotel hallway, Jack in bed on the other side.

"Okay," Bitty says softly, after a long pause. It seems like that's all he's going to say, but eventually he musters up more. "You looked really good out there tonight."

Alexei closes his eyes, because this is not how he wanted this to go, with his heart feeling like it's going to crack into pieces because he knows Bitty is talking about how he looked on the ice, but wishes he wasn't.

"Thanks," he says, and now he's the one pretending to be okay when he's not.

"Alyosha," Bitty says, because of course he noticed. "Are you okay?"

Alexei breathes silently for a moment. His instincts tell him it's a bad idea to keep this conversation going. He ignores them.

"One minute," he says, and walks to the staircase. He doesn't want to risk Jack waking up and walking out of the room at a bad time. He takes a couple flights down and leans on the railing. His steps echo around the concrete. "Can hear me?"

"Yeah," Bitty says. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Jack," Alexei says, because if he's in this then he's in it. "Is no good, he ignore you after game, and not the first time. He is acting like, uh, angry bear. Only not angry, just... not talking."

"Brooding," Bitty says. "Yes, that's about the size and shape of it."

"Is brooding and not paying attention to you." Alexei apparently can't keep himself from making things worse. "Making you upset, and is making me upset to see you upset."

There's a little pause, and Bitty takes a breath Alexei can hear through the phone he's clutching against his ear.

"That's sweet of you," Bitty says, but it's not fond and dismissive the way he's said it before. Alexei sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face.

"Is not my business."

"No, Alyosha, it's fine. You're my friend, and Jack's friend, you're allowed to care."

He knows Bitty well enough to hear the subtle reminder. He's tipped his hand, and he's lucky Bitty is a good person. A better person than he is.

"If you miss him," Alexei says, because he is still trying to be a good man, "talk, and tell him. Jack just in his head, maybe just need to get him back out of it."

"Maybe," Bitty says, a forced lightness to his voice that makes Alexei think he doesn't believe it. "Thanks for talking to me. I'll let you get to sleep, I'll bet you're tired."

He is, but he would still talk to Bitty for longer if he could. He can tell when Bitty is trying to get off the phone without saying as much, though, so he says goodnight and ends the call, his head still bowed over the rail, phone pressed to his forehead.

"Hey, Mashkov."

It's his least favorite voice to hear on the ice, and he definitely doesn't want to hear it now. "Is rude to eavesdrop."

"Yeah," Kent Parson says. He's standing one flight of stairs down. "Sorry, I was coming back up and you're on my floor."

"What is matter, Parson, scared to walk past me? I'm not hitting you off ice." Alexei doesn't think his expression is reassuring. He's glaring.

Parson puts his hands up, like he's acknowledging a point. "You were talking about Jack."

Alexei isn't sure if that's an explanation or change of subject. Parson doesn't seem to know either, and when Alexei doesn't answer him, he starts for the stairs, slowly giving Alexei a wide berth, but stops before going through the door to his floor.

"That was Bittle, right?"

"Is not your business," Alexei grunts automatically.

"It's not," Parson agrees. "But if it was Bittle, and if you're his friend, he might like to know that Jack has pulled this kind of shit before, and it I'm going to bet it's not going to go much better the second time around."

Alexei spits a curse at him in Russian, because sometimes English isn't good enough. "You are rat, Parson."

"The fuck- not the fucking draft, I'm not that much of an asshole." Parson looks almost as furious as Alexei had felt a moment ago, when it felt like Parson was implying Jack was about to crash and burn like he had in the Q.

"Not the draft, then-" the question died in Alexei's throat unasked, remembering the storm of media scrutiny around Parson just after Jack and Bitty had come out on center ice. If not the draft, then Parson must be talking about being Jack's _boyfriend_.

He leaves before Alexei can wrap his head around the revelation he thinks Parson just handed him, coded as it was.

Jack pulling this before, and 'this' being connected to how Jack did his best to ignore Parson's existence on the ice today, should make him angry. It should make him want to wake Jack up and tell him exactly what Alexei thinks of him getting so wrapped in his own head that he doesn't think about anyone but himself.

Instead, he goes back to the room he and Jack share, crawls into bed like nothing at all happened, and sends Bitty the cutest gif of a bunny he can find before he puts his phone on the nightstand and goes to sleep.

Alexei keeps texting Bitty like nothing happened that night they played the Aces. Maybe Jack was having an off night after losing to Parson again. They'd taken two losses against the Aces last season, and now one against them this season. Fans always went a little crazy for two Cup teams playing each other, and the major parts of the Aces roster were still the same as when they'd won, so the atmosphere of the game had been charged.

It's not only that, though. At least, it isn't for Jack.

Alexei is fairly sure he understands what Parson said in the stairwell that night. Now that the pieces are there, Alexei can put together the picture. If his mother has taught him one thing about reading people, it's that the obvious picture is usually the correct one. It's when people start to lie that it gets obfuscated and confusing. People's motivations, when you get right down to it, are simple.

Parson always hesitates for a split second when he answers questions about Jack. Alexei has watched him watching Jack on the ice, because Parson can be a fucking pest, and he's always waiting for the way Parson's eyes stay on Jack almost like they stay on the puck to turn into Parson making a run at Jack, or something, but it never does. Jack answers questions about Parson in the same rehearsed monotone as he does everything else, but he always gives the same answer. Almost as if it's by rote. He completely ignores Parson on the ice, unless he has the puck, and even then you can't pay Jack to look at Parson's face.

He only knows this because he spent more time than he wants to admit searching for clips of them talking about each other, trying to fill in for himself why Parson decided that coming out to an enforcer on a rival team, even obliquely, was a good idea. The picture he paints isn't kind to Jack. 

That also fits with the rest of the pieces too well, because Bitty doesn't stop texting him, either. He doesn't stop calling. He doesn't ask about Jack anymore, but that's only because he doesn't talk about Jack at all. Bitty is a little harder for Alexei to figure out, better at keeping his feelings walled off behind a smile and a cheerful turn of phrase. Sometimes his accent gets thick and his words start to slur together, and Alexei has to work to keep up.

Things seem to get better around the holidays. Alexei spends American Christmas in his apartment, as usual. He reads, he watches American Christmas specials because they're all that's on the television, and he calls his parents to tell them no, he won't be home in a couple weeks for actual Christmas, his schedule won't work out this year. Bitty calls him on the 25th, realizes he's alone and makes some overblown, dismayed noises into the phone, despite Alexei's assurances.

"Is really no problem, B," Alexei says, feeling a little exasperated at Bitty's fussing. "Is not even Christmas now in Russia, just 25th December."

"You didn't tell me you were alone on Thanksgiving, either!" Bitty says. "I'm going to start to think you don't like holidays."

"American holidays," Alexei says. "Americans and holidays are too much... just too much. Is better, everyone else is out doing Christmas, I stay home, have quiet night. I'm always being around so many people, is good to sometimes have time alone, yes?"

Bitty seems speechless on the other end, but then he lets out a small laugh.

"I shouldn't have assumed," he says. "I just don't want you to be lonely."

"If I say, yes, I am lonely, maybe B come visit me and bring me blini?" Alexei asks. He's teasing, mostly, but he also knows that if Bitty says yes, he's not going to spare Jack's feelings over what he wants.

"I'm in Canada," Bitty says, and honestly sounds regretful. "With Jack and his parents. I just slipped away a moment to call _my_ parents."

"I think I'm not your parents." Alexei is teasing again, but the stretch of silence on the other end of the line isn't what he expects. "B?"

"They haven't called me since just after the Cup."

That was more than six months ago, now. Alexei sighs slowly, remembering some of the things Bitty said on air, in the dozen interviews and appearances the front office arranged with the media, when the story first broke.

"I'm sorry. You are wanting to call them, or no?" It can get complicated with families. Alexei's family mostly didn't know he was attracted to men, and the time he told his mama had been… fraught.

"I should, but I'm afraid to. They know I'm in Montreal, because we can't help getting papped most places we go. Mom isn't going to like me spending Christmas somewhere else. It'll be the first year." Bitty lets out another gusty sigh.

"Tell me about it, I'm just getting off the phone with Mama in Moscow, telling her I'm in America for Christmas again. She put babushka on the phone, make me feel more guilty than I already do." Alexei felt a little bit like a teenager, laying on the couch with the phone against his ear, his feet propped up on the arm. Talking to Bitty makes him feel a little lighter. Maybe he's been lonelier than he thought.

"Thank the Good Lord that grandmammy passed years ago, or she might have come to Canada to drag me down to Georgia herself," Bitty says, laughing. The sound makes Alexei smile helplessly. He's got it so bad. "I should let you go. I really do need to call them before it gets to be too late in the day, or they'll be having dinner."

"Merry Christmas, little B," Alexei tells him, and hangs up after receiving the same sentiment. He wonders, after he's finally off the phone, what it means that Bitty slipped away and called him to talk about his parents instead of talking about it with Jack.

He decides to push before he can help himself. He texts, _I can talk after_ , and doesn't expect a reply.

He receives a heart emoji and nothing else.

Jack is a little bit better after Christmas spent with his family, but despite Bitty being on semester break, he isn't travelling to the games to watch the Falconers. He's almost always at games if he can make it, and after the first time Alexei notices him missing from the WAG section at pregame, he asks about it.

"He's going back to Georgia for a little while until his semester starts," Jack says.

"He had good conversation over Christmas, sounds like," Alexei says, relieved on Bitty's behalf.

Jack is giving him a strange look. "How did you know about that?"

"You think we don't talk? We talk, we're friends. He call me on Christmas." Alexei shouldn't feel so defensive about it. They aren't doing anything wrong. Bitty _is_ his friend. Alexei's attraction is not relevant in this situation.

"He just doesn't talk about his family much," Jack says, frowning. "I was surprised."

Alexei holds himself back from gloating that Bitty just doesn't talk to _Jack_ about his family, but just barely. He shrugs and keeps taping his stick instead. Jack seems to forget they were ever having a conversation. He's still caught up in his own head enough that he isn't talking in the locker room like he used to. It's not worrying the guys as much as it was before the holiday break. Maybe they're all just distracted, getting back in the feel of things.

They win two games on the road, then return home for a New Year's Eve game against the Aces. Bitty flies in for that game. It shouldn't make Alexei so happy to see him, but it does, before he puts it out of his mind to concentrate on the game.

Parson has two people he's watching on the ice, now, but Alexei doesn't treat him any differently than he has in any of the rest of the games. He checks him just as hard, fights him for the puck, sends it flying over the ice to his team, over and over again. 

They fight for it, struggling through six scoreless minutes in the first before the Aces send one over Snowy's shoulder and into the net. Jack answers with a wraparound through traffic that Alexei swears shouldn't have made it in. It goes like that, tied back and forth, 1-2 Falconers, 2-2, 3-2 Aces, 3-3. By the middle of the third, they're all exhausted and battered, able to do nothing more than hold the Aces off until overtime.

It's Jack, Thirdy, and Poots on the line for the three-on-three. The Aces send out Parson, Troy, and Petrov. Alexei is left to watch from the bench with the rest of the team, bouncing his knee. Thirdy is playing defense, backing Snowy up as the Aces make a move into their zone. Jack and Parson collide along the boards, shoving for the puck, until it pops off Parson's stick and over to Troy. He pulls back, fakes, sends it to Petrov, and then a quick-fire pass from Petrov back to Troy. He shoots, and it slips between Thirdy's skates, through the five-hole, and into the back of the net.

Alexei jumps off the bench, shouting a denial and letting loose string of language. Nobody calls him on it, because nobody can understand what he's saying. They're down 0-2 to the Aces in the series _again_. It seems like they just can't scrape a win out against this team.

Jack doesn't talk to anyone when he comes back into the locker room, his face stormy. They pull poor Snowy for the presser, probably wanting to grill him on giving up four goals, one of them in overtime. They want Jack, but the press coordinator takes one look at his face and shoves Marty out there instead.

"No worries, Zimmboni," Alexei says, nudging Jack with an elbow to try and cheer him up. "At least you have boyfriend to make you feel better, after. Can stay up and watch ball drop still, yes?"

Jack just glares at the wall and doesn't answer.

"Fuck the Aces," Poots mutters behind him, throwing his pads. Alexei agrees, only he can see as well as everyone else can what happened tonight. The Aces were better, there's no way around it. They tried their best and got out-played.

Those are always the losses that hurt the worst.

He lingers in the locker room so he won't have to watch Bitty and Jack leave, Bitty no doubt fussing over Jack's foul mood and ready to take care of him when they get home. Alexei only has his empty apartment waiting, and a bottle of vodka instead of champagne.

He gives them more than enough time to clear out before he leaves, so he doesn't expect to see them in the parking lot. They're standing beside Jack's car, and it looks like they're arguing, Bitty's arms crossed over his chest, leaned away from Jack. Alexei pauses inside the doorway, not wanting to interrupt but unable to look away.

He hears voices behind him and turns around. It's Parson and a few of his other teammates, laughing and ambling slowly down the hall. They stop when they see him, like they're afraid he's going to start something. He doesn't know why everyone thinks he's such an asshole off the ice.

"Good game," he says, because messing with people's expectations has done him pretty well in life, and sees the Aces exchange looks.

"Yeah, you too," Parson says, the only one of them not looking like Alexei might bite his head off.

Alexei glances over his shoulder. In the distance, he hears a car door slam. Bitty is standing on the passenger side for a moment, then he throws up his hands and climbs in. Alexei looks back at Parson. He doesn't really know what makes him do it, but his mouth moves before his brain really engages, and all he knows is that he really doesn't want to be alone.

"You have big New Years plans? Good party? Is not Las Vegas, but is not bad."

"Maybe." Now it's Parson who's giving him an odd look. Alexei forces a grin.

"I'm maybe seeing you at All-Star Game then, yes? Have good new year party."

He starts to walk away. He hears Parson say something that sounds like he's telling his teammates to go on without him.

"Wait."

Alexei turns around, surprised despite himself. He knew he'd been pretty transparent, but he hadn't thought Parson would want to have anything to do with him.

"What do you have planned?" Parson asks, looking almost as baffled about asking as Alexei is to be asked.

"Go home, watch Times Square on TV, drink vodka," Alexei answers honestly.

Parson takes off his snapback, drags his fingers through his hair, and puts it back on. It seems like a nervous gesture. He glances over his shoulder in the direction his teammates went, but when he speaks, he's looking back at Alexei again.

"You want company for that? I could go for a quiet night."

If Parson doesn't know why he's asking, Alexei definitely knows why he accepts. Parson is probably the only person who can help him figure Jack out, and that's the key to figuring out what's going on with Bitty and Jack, and whether it's what Alexei thinks it is, and how likely it'll be that he can do something about Bitty sounding so forlorn on the phone when Jack fails to call him after an away game.

"Okay then, Parson, we see how much vodka you can drink," he says, clapping Parson on the shoulder before leading the way out the doors into the parking lot.

"I do have a flight tomorrow," Parson says, but he follows. "And you can call me Kent."

"Alexei, then."

"Cool," Kent says, adjusting his snapback again. Alexei has mostly thought of him in terms of hockey before now, aside from his minor obsession with unraveling the secrets of the Parson-Zimmermann history in the Q, but he's noticing as they walk to the car that Kent is different off the ice. He's doesn't seem shy, or nervous, but it's like his intensity is dialed back. Looking at him, Alexei wouldn't think he'd won a game today. He seems... unsure.

"You are telling team I'm not kidnapping you, okay, I'm not wanting trouble," he jokes as he unlocks the car, and that cracks a little bit of Kent's reserve.

"Nah, they know me. Free booze was offered, I'm not gonna turn it down." He pulls out his phone anyway, texting someone as he buckles in.

Alexei spares just half a moment to wonder what the hell he's doing, and whether it'll be worth it if this all blows up in his face after all, before he backs out of his space in the garage and drives away with Kent Parson in his passenger seat.

Providence definitely isn't Las Vegas; when Alexei was there for the NHL Awards, the whole city had been like one perpetual party. He can't imagine what it must be like tonight. It seems exhausting, if Alexei is honest. Providence isn't exactly a sleepy town, but it doesn't have the same nightlife. The streets are mostly clear, even for New Year's Eve, and traffic isn't terrible. Kent reaches out for the radio, hesitating a second like he's just realized he isn't in his teammate's car.

"Uh, do you—"

"Radio is fine," Alexei answers, trying to hide his amusement. He would never have thought Kent could look nervous, but here he is, switching on the radio dial, the hesitant look on his face falling off only in favor of surprise when the strident sound of french horns and violins fills the car.

"You like classical music?" he asks, his hand hovering over the station settings.

"Mama was big figure skater in Russia. When I was little, I come to rink with her, watch her practice, later watch her students practice. Used to be no words allowed in figure skating music." He gestures at the radio. "It reminds me of her."

"It's cool," Kent says, leaning back into his seat. He leaves the station alone. "I'm more of a pop music guy."

"Like, eh, what is name of guy who does song about dragon retiring?"

Kent bursts into laughter, which isn't what Alexei intended, but it's a nice effect anyway. His snapback tumbles into his lap, knocked off when Kent throws his head back against the seat, his body shaking with it. Alexei can't really watch him while he's driving, but he can appreciate the way Kent's eyes crease at the corners, the way he dimples a little when he smiles.

"It's not _about_ —I mean, I'm not the hugest fan of Bruno Mars. I was thinking more 90s, you know? Britney, Christina, Destiny's Child." Kent turns his hat over in his hands, but he doesn't put it back on. His hair is sticking up in an odd direction on one side. It's still a little damp from the showers. Alexei's fingers itch with the urge to smooth it, which he ignores. This might turn into a hookup, who can say, but it isn't all he's after and he doesn't want to give Kent the wrong idea.

"So, that goal song when you score at home, Katy Perry? Is your idea?"

"I mean, it wasn't my idea," Kent says, and his smile curls into something a little fonder. "I might have tried to coax the DJ into changing out our goal song, they might have decided they'd chirp me with it on live television, but the fans loved it."

Alexei feels a smile starting on his own face. "You love it."

"Hell yeah I do," Kent says. He sprawls out in the seat a little more, like he's more comfortable now that he knows he can talk about himself a little, and Alexei won't give him any shit for it. Alexei wonders, idly, how many people Kent can do this with. Maybe he'll ask, later. Maybe not. Kent is still a wildcard, for all that he seems like he's content to go along with Alexei and whatever his plans are for the evening.

Alexei's apartment is only as big as he needs, practical and a little cluttered. A bookshelf in the corner sags under the weight of too many paperbacks, with little piles of books on top of and around it that Alexei really has to find a better place for. He sweeps last night's takeout off the coffee table as if it was never there at all, having not expected company. Kent stands around awkwardly for a second, and Alexei waves at his couch as he disappears into the kitchen.

"Sit, anywhere is fine. Remote is on table, you can find ball drop on TV?"

"I think I'll be able to figure it out." Kent takes a step toward the couch like he's bracing himself for it. Alexei wonders how he thinks this evening is going to go, whether he thinks Alexei is getting them both drunk because he has an objective in mind.

A small thread of guilt floats through him. It's hard to be people like them in this league, always hiding part of yourself, never sure when you can really open up to someone or when you're risking everything. He's being self-serving, here, in that he can't talk about Jack and Bitty with anyone else; even the guys on the team who know he sometimes likes men don't know about Bitty, because Alexei isn't stupid enough to let on that he's after a teammate's other half. Kent, though, probably thinks he's here for sex.

Alexei considers whether he minds that, while he gets out his nice tumblers and enough snack food to soak up the vodka. America is shit for pickled food, the only thing they ever bother to pickle is cucumbers, which Alexei finds mildly irritating at the best times and actually aggravating now that he has company. The only thing more disappointing is American mayonnaise. He finds a block of cheese in the back of the fridge that still looks good and a package of smoked salmon he hasn't even opened yet. He considers the spread as he slices the cheese and can hear his mother's voice in the back of his head, scolding him for inviting a guest for drinks when he doesn't have proper zakuski to serve him. Kent won't know the difference, but Alexei will.

He hears the television turn on from the other room and shakes off the melancholy. The last thing he needs is to be a maudlin, depressing drunk. The conversation Alexei hopes to have will probably be depressing enough already.

"You need any help?" Kent asks a minute later, from the kitchen doorway. "You don't have to do anything special, man, I know you weren't expecting company, and I kind of invited myself."

"Drinking vodka with no food is bad for stomach," Alexei says peaceably, having gotten used to Americans and their shitty drinking habits just as much as he's gotten used to their shitty snack food. Kent hovers, watching Alexei slice cheese at the kitchen island. It's nothing like what Alexei expected from him, and maybe that's what makes him relent. "You can get glasses."

Kent grabs the tumblers off the counter in a flash, like he's grateful to have something to do instead of just hanging around uselessly. A second later, he comes back in and grabs both jars of pickles from under Alexei's elbow before Alexei can say anything, darting back into the living room like he's just stolen the puck on the boards. Alexei retrieves the vodka from the freezer and follows him into the other room with the rest of the food.

"You didn't invite yourself," Alexei says, setting the bottle down on the table with a thump. Kent is on one end of the couch. Alexei sits on the other, even though there are chairs in the room, because it has the best view of the TV.

"I kinda did," Kent says. His lips are quirked in a crooked smile.

"Is good you did. On New Year's I like to celebrate, and vodka is for drinking with company. Rest of team seem like maybe they're not wanting party." He smiles back to soften it a little, to make sure Kent knows he's not holding a grudge over the hockey game.

Kent ducks his head, rolling a shoulder like he only just kept from shrugging at his own win. Alexei has seen this look before, barely, from the celly after Kent netted a goal. It was infuriating then, but now Alexei has to admit it's cute.

"You played a good game, I'm not just saying that."

"Yes, and Aces played better game, walk away with W. I'm talking about game all day tomorrow with Coach and Zimmboni, not tonight, yes?" Alexei isn't upset about the loss, but talking about what they do every day isn't what he's here for.

He opens the vodka, pulling the glasses toward him, and pours, sliding one over to Kent.

"What, all at once?" Kent asks.

"All at once. Eat something after." Alexei raises his glass. "To New Year."

"To the New Year."

Alexei exhales hard and throws it back, watching Kent do that weird thing Americans do with banging their glass on the table before they drink their shots. The vodka goes down, smooth, too good to have more than a dry bite. He slides the pickles to Kent, too, fishing one out of the jar as he passes it.

Kent coughs as soon as he swallows and looks like his eyes might be burning. Alexei isn't sure this strange companionship is going to last him laughing at Kent's face, but he can't help it. The laugh bubbles up and escapes him in a roar, just as loud as he does everything else, doubling him over, and then he's clutching at the coffee table while Kent radiates offended dignity from the other end.

"Your face!" Alexei gasps, trying to get himself under control. "You're never drinking Russian vodka before?"

"Not like that, fuck you," Kent says, but he's laughing too. "In a fucking drink, like a vodka cranberry—"

"No, no, that, no," Alexei tries to find the English to tell him that's an insult to vodka, if only because the trash American bars mix into their drinks is not the same. He fails, but only because Kent sneaks a piece of cheese off the plate like he's still not really sure of his welcome.

"Eat, is best for making sure you are making flight on time tomorrow."

"Yeah," Kent says, running his hand through his hair. The always present snapback is on Alexei's end table. Kent looks different without it, his hair ruffled up, his face lit by the TV and the light from the kitchen. Alexei has watched video of him, and he thinks maybe he's watched too much. Kent keeps surprising him when Alexei, professional athlete even if he does like dodging the press, knows the Kent on camera isn't the real thing.

Kent is rolling the empty glass between his hands. Neither of them are really watching the ball drop, but he looks at it for a minute. It looks like it's about to slide into something awkward, and Alexei takes a breath to break a silence before it can settle.

His phone rings.

"You can take that if you need to," Kent says, his hand going to his pocket for his own phone. Looking for a distraction. Alexei doesn't give up yet, but he's not happy about the interruption as he picks up his phone to see who's calling.

If it were anyone else, he would let it roll to voicemail. The voice of his mother yells at him again in the back of his head, and this is a bad idea, but he answers it anyway.

"Happy New Year, B! You are watching ball drop?"

"Alyosha," Bitty says, and pauses. Alexei props his elbows on his knees and leans forward. Bitty sounds tired. "I suppose it is in Russia already, isn't it?"

"Everything okay?"

"Oh, well." Bitty sighs. "I didn't see you after the game. Gosh, it was a tough one. Those Aces."

He says it in a tone Alexei has heard from him before, one that invites a host of meanings into just a couple words. He's almost sure this time that it means _those bastards_.

"Game is done, not how we wanted, is okay. Is still early in season, so we think about next game." He can practically feel Kent giving him a skeptical look over his phone at Alexei rattling off the press points. He glances over and finds he was right, and that Kent's eyes are crinkling a little in a smile he's hiding behind his screen.

"Alexei Mashkov, don't give me that presser bullcrap."

"No talking about game, then," Alexei counters.

"Alright, no talking about the game." There's another pause on the other end of the line. "Just—I guess one more thing, it's not really related, even though it is. Oh, nevermind, I'm being silly. Happy New Year's, Alyosha."

"Is not silly. What's wrong?"

"Was Jack very upset? In the locker room, I mean. He wouldn't talk to me at all afterward. We… fought about it. I wish I hadn't pushed."

"You know how Zimmboni is," Alexei says, regretting having this conversation in front of Kent just a little. "He's, eh…"

"An ass," Kent says, quietly from the other end of the couch.

"Difficult sometimes," Bitty says over the phone.

"Is probably understatement." Alexei isn't sure which of them he's saying it to. Maybe both of them. It makes Bitty laugh, at least.

"I just don't know." Bitty isn't specific. "I just. I don't know."

"B," Alexei says, because there's something defeated in Bitty's voice that he hasn't heard since that game just before Christmas. He struggles to figure out what to say next, because there are a hundred things he wants to say. He wants to tell Bitty to forget Jack, but that's too close to the invisible line he's set for himself. Finally, he settles on, "You know my door is open, if you need."

"You're so sweet," Bitty murmurs, just like he had that night in the stairwell. This feels like a strange kind of flashback, Kent listening to his side of the conversation while Alexei tries to step very carefully around not saying what he wants. "I'm glad I called you. I wish you'd been there tonight after the game."

"Next time," Alexei promises. He shouldn't, but he knows he won't be able to help himself, not if he can be that barrier between Jack's bad temper and Bitty's too-caring nature. "Maybe I call you again when ball drops, wish you proper New Year's."

"Oh, honey, I'll be in bed by then," Bitty says. "It's been a long day. But I'll remember you said so. Goodnight, Alyosha."

"Goodnight, B." He sets the phone on the table with a sigh, glancing at Kent. "Sorry."

"Hey, no big deal, I said you could take it if you wanted."

"Not polite to company to be on phone. Is fine, is done. More vodka."

Alexei doesn't wait for Kent to agree or not, just plucks the tumbler from between Kent's hands and sets it down on the table, pouring them another drink. This time, they toast to winning seasons, and Kent doesn't shudder so much when he drinks. He also reaches for the food without prompting, which Alexei considers a success.

Kent shifts around on the couch until he's got one arm slung over the back of it, leaning against the arm. He's kicked his shoes off, and with his foot propped up on the couch cushions and his knee bent, he looks like he's sprawled himself out on purpose because he knows what he looks like when he does it.

"So, Jack's boyfriend, huh? That's kind of against bro code," Kent says.

Alexei feels caught, like he's done something wrong. It irritates him that he's so obvious, even though he knows he's probably only so obvious when he feels like it's safe.

"We're friends."

"Right now you are, yeah, but you want in his pants."

"Is not your business."

Kent snorts. "Mashkov, do you think I'm an idiot?"

"I tell you to call me Alexei."

"Okay, fine, Alexei, do you think I'm an idiot?"

Alexei considers him, weighing what he's learned in the last hour or so about how Kent moves through a home that isn't his own, the way he was perceptive enough to pick up on what happened in that phone call even though _nothing_ happened in that phone call.

"No," he says, and leans back against the couch with a groan. If they're already talking about this, they might as well talk about it. It's what Kent is here for, after all. "What you said, last game, in the stairs. He was like this with you, too?"

Kent doesn't ask who Alexei means. It's too obvious they're talking about Jack. He blows out a long breath, rolling his head around on his neck.

"Straight to the point. I can respect that." He looks at the empty glasses on the table like he's thinking about asking for another drink, but he doesn't. "Jack is Jack. When he's winning, it's great, he's a team player, he throws out the credit where it's due, but when he's losing everything is his fault and it pisses him off. And he's a real asshole when he's pissed off."

Alexei knows. It's why Jack still has an A, like Marty and Thirdy, and not a C on his jersey.

"Hockey is hockey, losing is shit," Alexei says. "So Jack is taking loss hard, okay, is stupid but is not making him biggest asshole."

"Oh, yeah? What else is he doing, not picking up his phone when his little blond replacement calls? Disappearing off who the fuck knows where when he gets too up his own ass? You're talking to Zi—to Jack, and then you look up and where the fuck did he go? He's standing right there but he's sure as fuck not listening."

Alexei realizes, as more words come out and Kent's tone gets more bitter, as the easy smile and the crinkles around the corners of his eyes disappears in favor of something tighter that pinches the corners of Kent's mouth, that he's made a mistake. This is the kind of raw wound nobody should poke at for their own curiosity.

"I shouldn't have asked."

"No, like, I get it. It's not every day you have an opportunity to ask someone what the fuck Jack Zimmermann's problem is, and have them know what you mean." Kent leans back over the arm of the couch and picks up his snapback. "I think I should probably go back to our hotel, though. I don't think I'll be very good company."

"Kent," Alexei says, reaching out to catch his wrist as he starts to get up. "Stay. You _are_ good company, I'm making it bad."

"Nah, I'm just some fucking moron who can't get over his ex," Kent says, trying to pull away.

"You go back to hotel alone? Drink more, maybe? Talk about me with your teammates, say yes, Mashkov, isn't he weird guy?" Alexei does let go of Kent's wrist, but Kent isn't moving to get up anymore.

"I wouldn't talk about you like that." Kent says. "You think I'd do that?"

"No, no." Alexei slumps back over to his side of the couch. "Is good you came, thank you for company."

"Fuck," Kent says, laughing a little. "We're a pair, right? If I left, you'd just sit here all depressed and shit. I can't have that on my conscience."

"Is not your fault, I am thinking too much about things I can't have," Alexei reaches for the bottle again, tilting it toward Kent like a question. Kent nods.

"Well, it's not your fault I'm doing the same thing. Only I don't really know if I am, anymore." Kent takes the glass Alexei pours him and cradles it in his hands. "I think that's what pissed me off the most about overhearing you on the phone that night. It took me so damn long to get over him, right? And I finally did it because, I don't know, seeing him with Bittle made me think maybe he was right. Maybe I did make him worse. Maybe everything about us being together made him worse. But then I'm coming back up to my room one night and I hear you trying to tell his perfect fucking new boyfriend that it's just Jack, you know how he is."

"Not fair to B," Alexei agrees.

"No it fucking isn't, and it's not fair to me, either. Because this means that it wasn't me. It was never me, it was all him and his fucking problems. Maybe that makes me an asshole, too, but that's why I said something to you. What I went through, the way Jack broke it off like I never meant anything to him—he couldn't even bother to call me to tell me it was over, his parents had to tell me—"

Alexei feels regret bite him again, sharp. He raises his glass and clinks it against Kent's, distracting him for a second.

"To deserving better," he says, catching Kent's eyes and seeing the surprise flash through them.

"To deserving better," Kent repeats, and they drink. On the television, the clock is slowly counting down to midnight.

"So, be real with me," he says, after he watches the seconds tick down to the ten minute mark. "Why'd you let me invite myself over?"

"Is what you are thinking," Alexei says with a shrug. "You're only person can tell me what I want to know. But maybe, is also because is funny to watch Americans drink vodka. And maybe also, is because I like seeing pretty face when I drink, yes?"

Kent laughs. "I'm here for the eye candy, nice. Hey, you could have done worse."

Alexei lets his eyes travel over Kent's body, watching Kent notice and smirk, tucking his hands behind his head, leaning back so his shirt stretches tight over his chest and arms. This is what Kent came here for, Alexei is certain.

"I could have done much worse," he agrees. "Maybe also I let you come because I'm selfish, want to have best good luck kiss for New Year."

"Yeah, and what are you going to do if I say I don't kiss?" Kent asks, but Alexei can tell from the way his smirk broadens into a grin that he's just trying to wind him up.

He sets his glass down on the table with a click that sounds purposeful, and shifts on the couch so he's kneeling up over Kent. He braces his hand on the arm of the couch, bracketing Kent in, making him have to tip his head back to look up at Alexei. Even this close, Alexei couldn't tell someone what color Kent's eyes are. They're grey, except when they're blue, or when they're green. Alexei is close enough to see it when the flush starts to creep across Kent's cheeks, when the ring of color-changing iris shrinks against the dark of his pupils. He's close enough to feel Kent's breath on his lips.

"You don't want?" he asks, low-voiced, even though he can see the way Kent's eyes dart down to his mouth. "Is okay if no—"

Kent's mouth tastes like pickles, but he feels so good that Alexei can't complain.

Alexei indulges in kisses. More than any other act, kissing feels intimate. He'll kiss for hours, lazily, lips moving against another's. He indulges in Kent, now, letting him lead, figuring out what he likes. Kent kisses in short bursts, breaking away to breathe, diving back into Alexei's mouth once he's gasped for air. It makes Alexei feel like Kent is breathless. It makes his skin heat, his pulse pounding quicker as Kent slides his tongue into Alexei's mouth. It's wet, punctuated by hot puffs of breath.

Kent's hands slide underneath Alexei's shirt, pushing it out of the way so he can get contact with bare skin. He pulls, dragging Alexei down until his weight is blanketing Kent. Alexei lets himself relax, their bodies pressing together, the heat of Kent's skin palpable through his clothes. Kent's thighs close around his hips, tight, skater's muscles holding him fast in place. Kent goes after what he wants, Alexei thinks to himself, smiling against his lips.

"What's funny?" Kent asks, his voice buzzing against Alexei's mouth. Alexei steals another round of quick kisses. His lips feel like they're tingling. On the television, a raucous New York crowd screams _Happy New Year!_

"I was right about best good luck kiss," Alexei answers, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Alexei leaves his hands braced against the arm of the couch, but Kent's aren't idle. As their lips meet again, his fingers run along the dip of Alexei's spine, the sharp angles of his shoulder blades. He curls a hand around the back of Alexei's neck, where his hair is starting to get long enough to gather between fingers. Kent does, tugging Alexei until the tilts his head, breaking their lips apart. Kent's mouth brushes over Alexei's jaw, his tongue swiping at the soft skin just below Alexei's ear.

His hips jerk at that, a zing of sharp arousal rushing along his nerves. He feels Kent smile, this time, lips against his skin, before he bites the same spot, a gentle press of teeth. A noise crawls up Alexei's throat, a cracked groan. It's been so, so long since he's had someone under him like this, someone who will push back, someone who has the kind of strength in his body that lets him wind his legs around Alexei's and grind back up in turn, a slow, dirty roll of the hips.

"Jesus, you're so fucking hot," Kent murmurs into the skin of his neck, before getting back to discovering how much Alexei likes it when someone bites him, gently, the threat of pain tempered by the soft swipes of Kent's tongue in the wake of his teeth. Alexei is panting like he's just gotten done with a bag skate. Kent fits his fingers between the rise and fall of Alexei's ribs, fingernails biting small crescents in his skin.

"You," Alexei gasps, wanting to find the words to tell Kent how good it feels, how he'd hoped but didn't expect, how much he likes having Kent's body pinned between his own and the couch. He pants Kent's name, pulling against the light grip on his hair until they're kissing again, deeper this time, less of an exploration and more of an invitation.

"C'mon, take this off," Kent says in between kisses, rucking Alexei's shirt up under his armpits. Alexei has to sit up to strip it off, which means he can look down at Kent, his mouth swollen pink and wet from kissing, his eyes bright and greedy as he takes in Alexei's bare chest. He reaches up to scratch through the Alexei's chest hair, fingernails leaving a faint sting in their wake.

"Here." Alexei pulls at Kent's shoulders, yanking his shirt up. He has to struggle to get it off, and Alexei enjoys the feeling of his thighs tightening as he moves. "What do you want?"

Kent looks like he's considering for a moment, but he pulls Alexei down before he answers. Alexei doesn't object to kissing him more, drinking in the sound Kent makes when their bare chests press together. The vodka makes everything feel more languid, like the world might slide sideways and leave them here in a timeless bubble. Alexei touches, now, sliding his hands underneath Kent on the couch so he can feel the hard muscles of his back shift.

They start moving against each other, nothing coordinated, eager shoves of their bodies against each other. Alexei presses the palms of his hands to Kent's lower back, the fabric of the couch scratchy against his skin. He wants to feel Kent move, wants all of Kent's lean strength under his hands.

"I want you on top," he says, kissing Kent's mouth, his cheekbone, his neck. Kent tips his head back for more, and Alexei gives it to him until Kent is grinding up against him for real and Alexei's cock aches in his pants.

"Do you need to get anything?" Kent's voice is a little shivery. He hasn't objected to what Alexei said, and that makes Alexei's heart pound even harder.

"Just one minute," he promises, sitting up from the couch reluctantly. He feels cold while he walks to the bathroom, missing the feeling of Kent's skin on his already. There are condoms in the medicine cabinet, and Alexei feels a little embarrassed that he has to open the box for a brand new bottle of lube he bought so long ago he can't remember when.

Kent doesn't even seem to notice. It might be because Kent took the chance to get naked while Alexei was in the bathroom. Alexei stops in front of the couch, just looking at him. Kent's skin is smooth, hairless from the neck down until the trail of blond hair from his belly button down to the base of his dick. He's cut, which isn't surprising, but is a new experience for Alexei. He drops the condoms and lube on the coffee table and goes to his knees between Kent's spread thighs, wrapping his hands around Kent's hips to pull him forward to the edge of the couch.

"Oh," Kent says, sounding a little surprised, and then, "oh fuck," as Alexei takes him in his mouth. He only goes as far as the head, pressing his tongue against the little ridge underneath, sucking gently. Kent's hands cradle his face, thumbs against his hollowed cheeks.

Alexei takes more, sucking him deeper. He nudges at Kent's knee with his shoulder until Kent gets the hint and drapes his knee over it. He moves the hand on that side of Alexei's face to his hair, letting the hard muscle of his thigh press against Alexei's cheek. Alexei moans around the cock in his mouth. He works his hands underneath Kent's ass and squeezes, holding him tight while he slides his mouth up and down on Kent's dick, wet and slick.

"You're so fucking good at that, holy fuck." Kent's voice has a little bit of a whine behind it. His thigh muscle is jumping against Alexei's cheek. He sucks Kent in deep and Kent's fingernails bite into his scalp. He has to spread his knees to relieve some of the pressure his pants are putting on his dick. He could reach down, unzip himself at least, but that would mean letting go of the perfect round curves of Kent's asscheeks.

"I thought you wanted me to ride you," Kent says, tugging at his hair. Alexei slides his mouth up Kent's dick until he can kiss the tip, lick at the little bit of salty fluid leaking from it. When he looks up, Kent has a red flush on his face. His lip is even more swollen now, like he was biting it. He hasn't been making much noise, Alexei realizes. He regretfully lets go of Kent's ass to brush his thumb against Kent's lip.

"You think I don't want to hear you?" He presses a little harder, Kent's lip against his own teeth. Those teeth close around the pad of his thumb for a second before Kent turns his head to the side to shake free.

"I'm used to staying quiet. Are you going to come up here?"

"I like this too," Alexei says, curling his hand around Kent's dick. He strokes slowly, kissing sloppily while he moves his hand. He swipes his tongue over Kent's balls, not minding the texture of hair, and feels it when Kent's ass and thigh clench, his hips rising off the couch. He does it again, stroking while he licks, then sucks a kiss on the base of Kent's dick.

"Alexei," Kent groans, gorgeous and long. "Jesus, fuck, if you're going to fuck me you need to get up here."

"Going to make you come?" Alexei asks, working his thumb against the slit, sliding in precome. He feels it when Kent's muscles shiver, makes a little gratified hum when Kent moans out loud, when he keeps cursing.

"I can't get fucked after I come, it's too much." Kent is pushing at him now, and Alexei draws away. He sits back on his heels, his chin wet with spit, letting Kent's leg fall from over his shoulder.

"You have filthy mouth," he says, reaching behind him for the things he'd grabbed from the bathroom. He sits on the couch, wincing as his cock rubs against the inside of his jeans. Kent attacks his pants, hands fumbling with the button, yanking them down around Alexei's hips. Alexei helps, kicking them off, sending his boxers after them. Kent's hand is on his cock as soon as he's naked, drawing the foreskin down. Kent climbs in his lap, straddling Alexei's thighs, and makes room in his grip for both of them together.

"This is the best decision I've made in awhile," Kent says, probably trying for bravado but hitting sincerity instead. He smirks down at Alexei's dick, stroking his hand up and down, and Alexei pushes his hips into it. Even while he's having sex, Alexei can't turn the part of himself off that sees what Kent is doing, how he's probably just as starved for this as Alexei is himself, but doesn't want to seem desperate.

"This good view," Alexei says, making good on his word and appreciating the way Kent looks while he's kneeling in Alexei's lap, naked, jacking them both off at a terminally slow pace. "I like you in my lap. So pretty, look so hot for it. I fuck you now, you want?"

"Fuck yes I want." Kent grabs the lube from the couch cushion and pushes it into Alexei's hand. "Finger me and I'll tell you how much I've been thinking about this."

"Thinking about me?" Alexei's surprise is genuine, and he fumbles with the lube for a second before he gets his fingers wet. He grabs Kent's ass with his other hand, squeezes because he can't help himself, and spreads him open, rubbing against his hole.

"Yeah." Kent has to be doing this on purpose, arching his back, his abs tightening as he balances, his hips pushing into his own hand and against Alexei's cock. Alexei gives him a fingertip, works at the tight muscle, gradually sliding inside.

"Yeah?" he prompts, because he's burning with curiosity.

"Fuck, have you seen yourself?" Kent is getting more breathless the further Alexei gets inside him. "I watch your postgames, when you can't manage to dodge the press. That one you gave in just your pads? You don't wear a shirt underneath, Jesus. I jerked off to that for a week."

"Gets hot during game," Alexei says, trying not to sound too smug. He had no idea—not that Kent ever thought about him that way, or that it would turn him on so much to hear it. "Only touch yourself to that video? Save it in porno folder, remember my checking while you have hand on your cock?"

"Yes, no, fucking—I thought about you after that night in the stairs. When I knew you weren't straight. I know that look, oh, _god_ , Alexei. Give me more than that." 

Kent pushes his hips back against Alexei's finger, the one he's been working slowly in and out, drawing this out so he can hear what Kent is saying. Kent's hand has gone still on their cocks, but Alexei doesn't mind. He pushes the second finger in just as slowly as the first. Kent's head falls back, his neck a pale line of unmarked skin. Alexei would love to give him marks, bruises from his mouth that would last. He can't, and the next best thing is pulling Kent closer by the grip on his ass, twisting his fingers around for a better angle.

"I have, too. I think about you." Alexei presses his fingers a little deeper, and that does it, Kent's body tightening as he shudders, more noise spilling from his mouth, a little moan that's almost a whine. "I watch you play. Maybe best player in league, best hands. Think about those good hands on me, too."

"You only want me for my hockey," Kent accuses, and though it's light, Alexei sees something else behind it. Kent's eyes flicker down away from his face. Alexei doesn't have so many people who want to fuck him because he's Alexei Mashkov of the Falconers, but he's willing to bet Kent Parson of the Aces is different.

"Not just hockey," Alexei says, pressing deep with his fingers, making Kent push back against his hand again. "Want you for this body, too. Want my cock in you."

"Mmm," Kent hums, a little smile curling his lips. He has the condom in his hand, tears it open and rolls it down on Alexei. He fumbles for the lube and just misses spilling it on Alexei's couch. Alexei considers making another comment about good hands, but loses it as Kent strokes him wet. He rises up on his knees, and Alexei pulls his fingers out to grab Kent's ass and steady him while he sinks down. They slide together at first, the head of Alexei's cock skidding over slick skin. Kent reaches back to guide him in. He's so tight Alexei worries about hurting him, but Kent's legs flex and he pushes down to take more, so Alexei lets him.

"Kent," he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Kent's skin where he can reach. His mouth is on Kent's shoulders and collarbones when he finally sinks down all the way, drawing satisfied sounds from them both.

"Just a sec." Kent braces himself on Alexei, fingers wrapped around Alexei's biceps. He's breathing slow and steady, the too-tight grip of his body easing as he breathes. When he starts to move, Alexei curls his toes into the carpet, like hanging on there will remind him not to move. He wants Kent to take this at his own pace.

Kent doesn't need much time. He rocks gently a couple more times before his lower body tightens and he lifts himself up for real. Alexei can feel the power under his hands as Kent moves, his ass flexing when he lifts up and releasing as he sinks down. Alexei's fingers press hard into that muscle, breathing hard, letting his head tip back against the couch.

"You like feeling that," Kent says, not a question. "How strong I am."

"Yes," Alexei groans, his voice thick. "Yes, so sexy."

"You too. Lift me," Kent gasps, squeezing Alexei's biceps, and he gets it, flexing the next time Kent lifts up. His muscles bunch under Kent's hands and he moans again, swearing softly.

The pace picks up with Alexei helping. Kent bounces on his cock, the springs of the couch squeaking in protest under the sounds of their voices. Kent's fingers are bruising tight on Alexei's arms, hanging on as Alexei lifts him up and drops him down. He's mouthing at Kent's chest now, bent as far as he can get, biting a little when the first time his teeth catch Kent's skin provokes a gasp and a shudder. He wonders if Kent would like it if Alexei bit his nipples, too. They're pink and tight, but Alexei can't bend at the right angle to find out.

Kent's weight is heavier and heavier in his hands. They're both tired from the game, and the vodka isn't helping Kent's stamina. Alexei slides his hands up to Kent's shoulders, sliding down the couch and coaxing him forward until Kent is draped over his front. Alexei can plant his feet and thrust like this, drive his dick in and out of the hot clutch of Kent's ass.

"Feel so good," Alexei moans, his mouth pressed against Kent's hair. Kent's back is curved, his forehead tucked into Alexei's neck, breath puffing over the skin of Alexei's chest. He takes when Alexei is giving him, his dick rubbing between their stomachs. Alexei feels a bright prick of pain from Kent's fingernails digging into his skin. Alexei tries to fuck him harder, slouches a little lower on the couch until his hips are nearly hanging off, his neck cricked at an angle that'll probably be painful when they stop. It hits Kent right, and his body jerks, going almost painfully tight around Alexei's dick.

He doesn't expect to come yet, but Kent turns his face against Alexei's neck and bites, right along the beat of his pulse, just barely catching the skin between his teeth and tugging. Alexei swears, grunts, presses Kent's hips down as he's fucking him in erratic strokes and filling the condom, toes curled tight in the carpet.

"Fuck, fuck," Kent gasps, wiggling on his softening dick. Alexei winces, gasping to try and get his wind back. Kent is trying to sit up and get a hand between them, but he's shaky, his arm skidding on the back of the couch.

Alexei takes a deep breath and lifts him off, rolling him over onto the couch. He slides ungracefully to his knees and pushes three of his thick fingers inside Kent, thrusting with his hand at the same pace he'd been fucking Kent with his cock.

"You fucking gentleman," Kent says, laughing breathlessly. He has a hand on his cock, jerking himself off, and the best thing about this is that Alexei gets to watch him come. His face flushes blotchy red, the color crawling down his neck too. He sucks his lip between his teeth, huffing for breath like he's winded. His abs flex and he curls in on himself, and when he does come, he paints his own chest with it, white and sticky.

Kent sprawls back against the couch. Alexei lists sideways until he's laying on the floor, the condom slipping off his dick. He carefully pulls it off the rest of the way and ties it, staring at the ceiling. He has to get up and throw it away, but the bathroom seems so far.

"Gimme," Kent says, plucking it from his hand delicately, between two fingers. He has come drying on his chest. Alexei hears the water running in the bathroom and drags himself off the floor so he can stretch across the length of the couch. He wants Kent laying on top of him, for at least a little while before he probably has to go. When Kent comes back from the bathroom, he reaches out, waving him over. They're both still naked when Kent carefully navigates between Alexei's legs, his head resting on Alexei's chest, arms and legs tangled together.

"Don't let me fall asleep," Kent says, sleepily. "Got a flight tomorrow."

"I'm not sleep," Alexei says, patting his back reassuringly. "I'm get you Uber back to hotel. In a minute."

"Yeah, in a minute," Kent agrees, and his eyes slide shut.

Alexei dozes, in and out of sleep. He'll start to drift, and then it's like an alarm in the back of his mind jerks him awake, remembering that they can't both fall asleep. Kent has, and is snoring gently on Alexei's chest. His five o'clock shadow is prickly against Alexei's skin, and he's drooling a little, but he's warm and solid, and it's been such a long time since Alexei got to hold someone.

It's approaching one in the morning when he decides that Kent is going to be in a world of deep trouble if he doesn't get back to the hotel at least before the sun rises. He doesn't know how the Aces do curfew or how Kent managed to dodge it, or if they don't have a curfew tonight because of the holiday, but Kent had said not to let him sleep and Alexei has already broken that promise.

"Kent," he says softly. He can't help but touch, sliding his hands over Kent's bare skin from the curve of his ass up the muscled plane of his back. Kent makes a sleepy, contented noise.

"Just a little bit longer," he mumbles into Alexei's chest, not opening his eyes. Alexei's breath catches a little as he rubs his face against Alexei's chest hair, sleepily content.

"Look so sweet," Alexei murmurs, smoothing Kent's hair back out of his face. "I let you stay here long as you want."

Kent lets out a long sigh that seems to wind out of his lungs.

"It's nice," he says. "It's been a long time."

Alexei was just thinking the same thing, so he keeps up the motions of his hands, stroking over Kent's sweaty hair and smooth skin.

"You don't hook up with men," he says. It's not a question. The way Kent is now, like he can't bear to let go and is taking advantage of what he has while he has it, isn't how someone behaves when he's getting regularly laid.

"Well I don't fuck women, so I don't hook up at all. Too dangerous," Kent says. He still sounds half-asleep, but there's a note of melancholy in his voice that Alexei regrets putting there.

"Does anyone know? Team? Family?"

Kent shakes his head as best he can while it's resting on Alexei. "Like I said, too dangerous."

Alexei tries to imagine what it would be like to live that way. He at least enjoys having sex with women, though he's not an incredible fan of casual sex. It's almost entirely without intimacy—this kind of intimacy, the kind that comes from sharing secrets and fears with someone who understands. Still, it's enough, and Kent doesn't even have that.

"How long it been like that?" Every time Alexei touches him, Kent seems to push into it like he's starved for it, so Alexei doesn't stop.

"Years," Kent says. It's a huffed out against Alexei's skin like it costs Kent something to say it, like it's as painful a wound as Jack is.

"Make me feel so special, Kent Parson," Alexei says, and he means it to come off kidding, but he sounds too tender for his own good.

Kent finally sits up, then, but only far enough to cross his arms and prop his chin on his hands, looking Alexei in the eye.

"Have you ever told anyone?" 

Kent's voice is light, but forcibly so, and there's something wary in his eyes, something Alexei wants to wipe away. It's unexpected, how quickly this blindsided him when Eric Bittle has up until now been the center of Alexei's heart, but all Alexei can think as he watches Kent's eyes fall away from Alexei's face and back down to his folded arms is that Kent must be so alone.

"Mama knows, in Russia. Is different there, could never be open. Out. I didn't tell her, she guess, say 'Alexei, you talk about this boy so much, want to tell me something?' and I panic. Lots of crying. She's scared for me, I think, but America is safer. I could be okay, after more years, maybe another Cup, maybe win Norris one day, prove I'm best. Then, is like you, nobody will say we can't play just because of this."

Alexei hasn't talked about his conversation with his mother to anyone, and had always believed he would take it to his grave just as she had promised to do. Jack was one thing—Jack had the perfect relationship, he had Bad Bob Zimmermann, he had the Conn Smythe and the A his rookie year. Jack had everything, but Alexei is just Alexei, the funny one that's too loud on the PR videos. Alexei doesn't have an ironclad NMC or say in where he gets dealt if the Russian media explodes over having an out professional athlete. He's never going to have a triumphant moment center ice, and he knows it.

Kent is different. Kent has everything too, the Calder and two rings and more than one of those MVPs to his name, and he's still scared. He probably understands better than Jack why Alexei keeps his mouth shut. 

"They'll still say it. They'll say whatever they want whether or not it makes any sense. They're saying it about Jack, they'll say it about you and me." 

Kent shrugs and lets his head roll to one side, so that he's staring at the TV. Times Square coverage is over, and there's some kind of late-night programming on. Infomercials. Alexei watches the color flicker over Kent's face as he speaks again.

"It's why I've decided to just keep it to myself. For good, I mean. I don't see a day in the future where I'll do what Jack did. He's always going to be an asterisk now, you know? It'll be all anyone ever talks about, in every article for the rest of his life. I don't want that. I don't want to be the best player of my generation, asterisk, for a gay guy."

Alexei can't even argue with Kent's assessment, because it's all the same things he's thought about himself. Maybe not the part about being the best player of his generation, but he knows it's not arrogance for Kent to say that, just a statement of fact. He _is_ the best, a generational talent, and Alexei is regularly in conversations for the top defensemen in the league, but he isn't Kent Parson.

"I think, probably same. Is harder too, because of laws in Russia. If I'm being out, I'm not going home ever, maybe arrested if I do. So I think, if maybe one day I have someone I love enough, makes me not want to lie, I'm move my family here, then do it."

"But you would do it," Kent says. "If you loved him enough, you would. I won't. This is my legacy and I'm not… I don't owe anyone this, you know? Jack went first, good for him, now he gets to be the role model the kids look up to while half the league tries to kill him on the ice. Nobody needs me to make some kind of statement. I just want to play."

Alexei thinks about the rainbow signs that show up every time they play now, the kids that sometimes manage to catch Jack after practice to thank him, breathless and tearful, for showing them that they could do it. He thinks about how uncomfortable Jack seems afterward, how his shoulders are tight for the rest of the day and he mostly doesn't play his best in games after that happens. He thinks about being a symbol, put up on a pedestal, about all the pressure that would come with it. He thinks about being the first out Russian athlete and something like terror surges in his gut.

"Is scary to think," he says slowly. "Easy for so much to go wrong, easy to let people down. I know my hockey good, I try hard to do best, make myself proud. Is enough for me, but maybe…"

"You're thinking about Bittle," Kent says, sitting up so they can look at each other again. "He's so far out there's no going back in. If something happens there, would you ask him to?"

Would Alexei ask Bitty to hide for him? To go back to lying and never being able to be affectionate with him in public? For someone like Bitty, who loves with his whole heart and soul just like Alexei does, that would be torture.

"No, never ask that of him. Is too much to ask anyone, yes?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is, so that's basically why I don't tell people. I don't hook up and I don't date. I've got the team, and I've got hockey, and I've got Kit. That's good enough, you know?"

"Yes," Alexei says. There's an unspoken rule among the men of their profession: nobody ever mentions that one day, they won't have hockey. They all try very hard not to think about it, especially now, while they're in their peak years and the only thing left is decline.

Kent is quiet, the only sound in the apartment the low volume of the infomercial and their slow breathing.

"Maybe it'll change one day," Kent says, breaking the silence. "Maybe, if it's not an asterisk anymore and it's just like… me being from Syracuse. Just another fact on my stat sheet. Maybe it'll be okay for me to tell people then."

"Hope so," Alexei says, smoothing his hand from the nape of Kent's neck all the way down his spine. "You deserve… not be lonely. Maybe is okay having friends, team around you, but is still different than this."

"I'd like to do this again." Kent says it so softly that Alexei barely hears it, like he's afraid it's too much to ask. It makes the newfound tenderness in Alexei's heart bubble over.

"How you think I say no to that? Who say no to beautiful boy in their arms?" Alexei squeezes one perfect, round asscheek. "You say, 'Alexei, so lonely, come fuck me,' I get on plane for you."

Kent bursts into laughter, the heaviness of the moment broken as Alexei proceeds to thoroughly grope his ass while Kent wiggles around in his lap.

"Man, don't get me worked up again, I have to go." Kent finally sits up, pulling away from Alexei's wandering hands. Alexei pouts at him theatrically, delighted when Kent grins and rolls his eyes in return. He looks good like this, relaxed and smiling, his hair sticking up at odd angles where Alexei's fingers have been buried in it. His eyes look different when he smiles, greener and less grey.

Alexei orders an Uber while Kent gets dressed. He stops for more kisses in between each found piece of clothing, and Alexei is happy to indulge him, lounging naked on his couch while Kent searches the floor for his discarded socks. Finally he's clothed again, bending down to capture Alexei's mouth one last time.

"Hey, so," he says, some of the guarded caution returning. "The thing you have for Bittle. Good luck with that I guess? Let me know if you end up with a boyfriend and don't want a booty call anymore."

"Not likely," Alexei says, trying to make light of how hopelessly he's pining over his friend's boyfriend. "You have better ass."

"You're damn right I do," Kent says, grinning, and straightens, jamming the snapback on his head. He gets Alexei's number before he leaves, and is still smiling as he gives Alexei a little wave goodbye, the front door of Alexei's apartment closing behind him like the sound of waking from a dream.

Alexei almost thinks it was a dream, if it weren't for the way his living room still smells faintly of sex, and the two empty tumblers on his coffee table. Before he has time to lose the sweet, satisfying feeling that's wrapped around him like a warm blanket, he texts Bitty.

_Happy new year!!!! )))))))_

He doesn't expect to get a response, so when his phone buzzes, he looks down at it right away. It isn't from Bitty, though, it's from Kent, and it's a whole string of peach emojis. He laughs in the quiet of his apartment and texts back, _best_.

He falls asleep like that, naked on his couch with his phone on his chest, and when he wakes up the next morning he has two return texts.

 _Best you'll ever have_ is from Kent, with another peach and an eggplant. He's terrible, Alexei thinks fondly.

 _Thank you for always listening_ is from Bitty, and Alexei is startled to realize that the fondness doesn't change, only deepens.

"Shit," he says aloud, staring at the two text messages on his phone, at a loss. He feels like an idiot for missing that this would happen—that it was happening, while he and Kent talked softly on his couch, naked and curled up together. He wants them both, and the joke is on him, because he can't have either one of them.

Zimmboni has all the fucking luck.


End file.
